Merry and Bright
by UA
Summary: Basically some Christmas Caryls, for lack of a better word. Tooth-rotting fluff for your holiday enjoyment.
1. 1

_It's just temporary, Carol and her girl staying here._

* * *

 **Merry and Bright**

* * *

...

He's nervous, jittery in a way he hasn't been since he quit smoking all those months ago, and it's stupid, really. _He's_ stupid. Playing Santa for a kid that ain't even his. Wearing a groove in the floor with his pacing and shit and for what?

.

It's just temporary, Carol and her girl staying here.

.

Just until the dust settles with her divorce and Andrea finds a way to keep that abusive prick away from the two of them for good, and if she don't? Well, if she don't, Daryl might have something to say about that and he knows Merle wouldn't object to being included. Knows his brother probably already has something up his sleeve anyway because Ed Peletier is the absolute scum of the earth, a real boil upon all humankind, but that's all besides the point because he can hear them, moving about in the other room. He can barely make out the soft murmur of their voices as they start their day, and it's all he can do to quell the flutter of honest-to-goodness panic deep in the pit of his belly when he hears the creak of the bedroom door and the quiet whisper of little socked feet as they approach. He don't quite manage and, at the last possible second, he whirls around. Studies the popcorn string hugging the skinny arms of the sad little Christmas tree. The handmade paper ornaments and the blinking rainbow lights, and if his heart wasn't pounding so loud between his ears, maybe he might have heard it. That gasp of surprise. That gasp of utter wonder. But he doesn't. He doesn't. So when his curiosity gets the best of him and he turns around to find Carol standing there with tears streaming down her pretty face? He almost loses what's left of his shit, arms flailing around and eyes looking anywhere but at her and that little girl. "I didn't…I don't…I…it's Christmas. And I thought the kid…"

.

"Daryl?"

.

His eyes snap to her face and she's still crying, her cheeks all pink and flushed and her blue eyes bright as twinkling stars, but if he squints, there's something close to a smile twitching over that sweet mouth that's haunted his dreams since they were nothing but kids finding their way, kids drawn together even when the whole wide world was throwing obstacles in their way. Maybe he hasn't completely fucked things up. Maybe, just maybe... "Yeah?"

.

"Shut up."

.

Her girl's mouth falls open just as wide as his and she tucks her face away in the billows of the worn, oversized flannel button-down all but swallowing up her mama's slight frame.

.

"Might be I…" He frowns and tries to defend himself, sputters out pieces of an apology because she's shaking her head, red curls tumbling all over the place and smile fond, if not a touch exasperated.

.

"Santa."

.

"I…what?" His brain finally catches up with his mouth and he searches her eyes, even as the faint seeds of understanding start to bloom. "Santa?"

.

She nods and squeezes her little girl's skinny shoulder. "Looks like he's been busy."

.

He glances to his feet, all the gifts in their colorful paper. All shapes and sizes and all for a kid he wishes… "Yeah. Yeah," he quirks a smile at them both, kneels to pick up one of the smaller packages and hold it in his hands. "He's been busy all right. Had some help from some real nice elves, though. Heard 'Phia was visiting, and…well. He heard she was visiting. Heard she'd been a real good girl and left these here for her."

.

The kid's eyes widen with disbelief. "For me?"

.

"Might be one or two for your mama in there, but yeah."

.

"Mama. Santa found me."

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"I told you he would."

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Happy tears damn near make her blue eyes glow and Daryl feels his heart do a somersault within his chest as she mouths her thanks to him over Sophia's sleep-tousled head. His voice comes out gruff when he finally finds it again. Stands up. "Well. What are you waiting for, Kid?" That's all the encouragement the little girl needs and it don't take long for the cabin floor to be covered in a sea of wrapping paper and toys. A curious sort of pride fills him watching her. A warm contentment he's never known.

.

Carol's fingertips kiss his own and she rests her cheek briefly against his arm before raising on tiptoe and pressing a kiss against his unshaven cheek. Smiles at him soft and gentle before curling her hands around his arm and dropping her chin upon his broad shoulder.

.

"What was that for?" he rumbles. "Ain't no mistletoe." He feels her hum ripple through him, set his nerves to singing again and his palms to sweating when he feels those blue eyes watching.

.

"You saying I need it?"

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She's kissing the corner of his mouth before he has a chance to answer her, cupping his cheek in her hand and _damn_. Dreams could never live up to this. When she finally pulls away, it's all he can do not to whimper. If you ask him, it's some kind of Christmas miracle that he manages to even breathe, much less form words. "Don't."

.

"Good." She smiles and kisses him again.

.

If he's stupid. Well, he's the best kind of stupid.

...

* * *

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	2. 2

_They're still new at this, the two of them becoming more than just two people that found each other and fell in love like some kind of miracle considering the hard knocks life has dealt them already._

* * *

 **Merry and Bright *2***

* * *

...

He's there soon as she crosses the threshold. Big hands framing her face gently, lean body colliding with hers, and she drops the keys and the shopping bags in her hands to the floor, gripping fistfuls of his shirt as he kisses her sweet and slow like she's been gone with the girls weeks instead of hours.

.

"Hey," he rumbles when their lips finally separate.

.

Eyes still closed, she nuzzles his palm, relaxes her hands until they rest over the steady beat of his heart. "Hey yourself." Her first real glimpse of him, though, her mouth twitches with suppressed laughter. "You're covered in flour. Daryl, what on earth…"

.

He stops her with a thumb to her lips and a shake of his head, a sheepish expression. "'Phia and me, well. You gotta promise you won't be mad."

.

Those words are like some sort of magic switch, kicking her maternal anxiety into high gear and all sorts of nightmare scenarios start to fill her head, thanks in no small part to her overactive, wildly creative imagination. The only thing that stops her from shrugging from his embrace and searching out her little girl for herself is the comforting knowledge that there are no fire trucks or ambulances parked outside, red beams flashing among the neighborhood Christmas lights. That and not wanting to make it seem like she doesn't trust him because God. It's the farthest thing from the truth. They're still new at this, the two of them becoming more than just two people that found each other and fell in love like some kind of miracle considering the hard knocks life has dealt them already. The two of them becoming three with Sophia—a family. No. She doesn't want to do _that_. Besides, he's still talking. Babbling, really. As much as a man of relatively sparse words like him can do such a thing. Thing about this beautiful man she still can't believe she's married to, though? He saves up his words, and when he uses them, they actually mean something.

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"Gotta promise 'cause all she wanted was to surprise _you_. Ain't her fault."

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Her frown melting away with each earnest word spoken in defense of her daughter, she quietly asks, "What isn't her fault?"

.

By way of explanation, Daryl ducks his head. His stubbled cheeks pinken and his lashes flutter against his cheeks as his mouth twists with embarrassment. "Ain't her fault I got sucked into the black hole vortex of that website."

.

His statement isn't all that specific, but she has her suspicions. An inkling that fills her with amusement because the mental image is priceless and she knows her brother-in-law would have a field day with it. Not that she has any plans of telling him, but still. "What website?" she presses. "Daryl?"

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"One with all them pictures and things."

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She covers her laugh with a cough, _badly_ , and he lifts narrowed eyes to her face. "You went on Pinterest?"

.

"Kid wanted to make snowman cookies. Looked easy enough."

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"Looks can be deceiving," she tells him with a little grin.

.

"Pfft," he sputters. "Stop."

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Blue eyes twinkling and bright, she shrugs. "It's true." Snaking her arms around his neck, she wrinkles her nose. "How bad are they?"

.

"Murderous lookin' suckers." His mouth quirks in a tiny smirk. "Be watchin' my back if I was you."

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His quiet huff of laughter is all it takes for her to lose all composure and she tucks her face in the warm crook of his neck, her own shoulders quaking with it. A little while later, she murmurs his name. "Daryl?"

.

He strokes a hand down her back, takes his time answering. "Yeah?"

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"Why would I be mad?" He doesn't get a chance to answer her before Sophia's sweet, excited voice interjects.

.

"Mama! You're home!"

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"Yeah, Baby. I…" One look at her baby girl's messy freckled face and tangled cloud of hair tells her all she needs to know. "Daryl?"

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"Know it sounds obvious. But melted marshmallows…"

.

"Stick to everything?"

.

" _Everything_."

.

...

* * *

 **So. I actually didn't set out to make this second part a continuation of the first, but the funny thing is, it could totally read as a continuation. Read it as you wish.**

 **F.Y.I.: Future ficlets in this series may or may not be related.**

 **Feedback is love.**

 **Thanks so much for reading!**


	3. 3

_Ain't just her mama own the corner on reducing him to a pile of flaming mush._

* * *

 **Merry and Bright *3***

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...

He's always prided himself on keeping his emotions in check. Surviving in the Dixon household had meant wearing a mask of tough indifference no matter the cost. But he don't stand a chance against those angel eyes. Never has and never will probably because _damn_. Ain't just her mama own the corner on reducing him to a pile of flaming mush.

.

Little hands twined together in a fretful ball, Sophia peeks at him beneath the shy flutter of thick lashes. The tiny pearls of her teeth sink into her quivering lip and her feet are restless in her favorite new Christmas socks. "You like it?"

.

Tracing his work-worn fingers over the colorful clay ornament, the candy canes and holly berries, the peppermints and three misshapen letters that seem to have robbed him of his words, he can only nod and hope she takes the gesture for what it is. Heartfelt and sincere. Utterly overwhelmed in a moment he never imagined would happen to him. Thankfully, he has a little help convincing her in the form of the woman he loves, swooping to the rescue by joining him on the overstuffed sofa and curling into his side.

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"He loves it. I can tell."

.

"Really?"

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"Yeah," Daryl gruffly manages around the lump lodged firmly in his throat. "Really." It's worth the effort, seeing the beaming smile on that little freckled face. Feeling her mama's happy sigh warm his skin. It's worth _everything_.

.

"Why don't you pick a place for it on the tree?" Carol suggests.

.

He takes advantage of the offered distraction, running his scarred knuckles beneath eyes that have grown more than a little misty and leaning his stubbled cheek into the gift of her kiss as they watch the tiny girl scamper off. Stare up at the towering evergreen in consideration before carefully mounting the step ladder they keep around just for her.

.

"What about…here?"

.

"Looks perfect. Huh, Dad?"

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Snaking his arm around his wife's waist, he can't help but agree. "Perfect."

.

 **...**

* * *

 **Feedback is love.**

 **Thanks so much for reading!**


	4. 4

_She invites Daryl to spend the holidays with her and Sophia._

* * *

 **Merry and Bright *4***

* * *

...

She invites Daryl to spend the holidays with her and Sophia.

.

His brother's off testing the hospitality of another Georgia state pen and Andrea's soaking up the sun on some beach somewhere with her baby sister. Rick and Lori have their hands full with Carl and their brand-new baby girl and well.

.

Daryl's alone. Just like her and Soph. So Carol invites him. Just blurts out the invitation to ride up to her boss's mountain getaway for a few days like she's asking him if he wants coffee to go with his dessert and wouldn't you know it?

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Wonder of all wonders, Daryl says yes.

.

...

* * *

...

The cabin is small. Hardly a five-star establishment but Carol falls in love with it on sight. Sophia does, too.

.

Daryl doesn't say much.

.

Not that he ever does. It'd taken months of shyly shared bits and pieces of conversation at the diner for him to even gift her with his name and even longer for him to grow comfortable enough to accept her gentle teasing for what it was: an offer of friendship extended from one lonely person to another.

.

He doesn't say much. _Anything_ really. But he smiles.

.

That boyish little quirk of one corner of his mouth that sets her heart to stumbling with decidedly _unfriendly_ thoughts. Makes her cheeks grow pink and warm even in the unfamiliar chill of the air, and she laughs to play it off. Distracts him with some lame joke about being hungry enough to eat a horse.

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"Me, too," Sophia comes out of her shell long enough to agree.

.

Daryl glances down at his boots and he grows serious again. Shrugs his shoulders and looks up at them both, gnaws absently at his thumbnail. "Passed some horses a few miles back."

.

Her mouth falls open and her daughter giggles.

.

Daryl, for his part, looks at them with sheepish satisfaction. His blue eyes dancing and bright. "You said…"

.

...

* * *

...

It's a little easier after that. Easier than she expected anyway and the rest of the day passes quickly as they settle in. Each claiming their cozy little corners and establishing a sort of rhythm.

.

The small fridge is pretty bare, but the cupboards are well stocked with non-perishables and other basic necessities and soon Sophia and Daryl are slurping soup from spoons and sneaking shy peeks at one another across a narrow, hand-carved kitchen table while Carol watches with utmost amusement. "Good?" she asks.

.

The answer comes in quiet unison. "Good."

.

"Good," she says.

.

...

* * *

...

Cocooned beneath a mound of blankets later that night, Sophia hugs her doll to her chest and accepts the kiss Carol presses to her forehead. Yawns as she wriggles further down in the little bed and captures her hand before she can leave. "I like him, Mama."

.

The twinkle lights twined overhead illuminate her soft, sleepy smile, the freckles across her cheeks and nose, the truth in her eyes, and Carol finds herself voicing her own admission. "I do, too, Sweetie. I do, too."

.

...

* * *

...

They venture back down the mountainside the next morning. Back into the quaint little town they passed along the way where they wander into a tiny general store too authentic to qualify as a tourist trap.

.

That's not to say Sophia doesn't find plenty to interest her as children are wont to do; Carol's not immune to the store's charming wares either and finds herself drawn to a display of handmade jewelry. Necklaces and earrings. Bracelets and Pendants. All bearing a similar design. She looks up, startled, when the storeowner approaches. Smiles knowingly at her.

.

"Local girl made 'em. Pretty ain't they?"

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Fingers lightly tracing over the delicate design, she murmurs, "They're beautiful."

.

"They're Cherokee roses. Ever hear the legend?"

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Shaking her head, she tells him, "Can't say that I have."

.

"Well, legend has it…"

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Spying Sophia trying to gain her attention halfway across the store, Daryl hovering patiently, protectively nearby, she apologizes. "I'm sorry. My daughter needs me."

.

"Then you must go to her. Your husband looks a little out of his element."

.

"Daryl? He's not my…I'm not…we're not… _married_ ," she finishes, long after the matronly woman has left her side to help another customer.

.

"Mama!" Sophia waves her over. "Come look."

.

...

* * *

...

They do some more shopping. Do a little sightseeing. Eat a late lunch before returning to the cabin.

.

Sophia clomps up the steps in a new pair of snow boots Carol doubts she'll get much use of back home, but she'd seen the look of unspoken longing in her daughter's eyes and she'd been unable to deny her such a simple happiness, especially knowing Ed would have never allowed what he deemed a frivolous purchase.

.

"Do you think the man at the restaurant was right, Mama? You really think it's going to snow?"

.

"Think it might," Daryl answers for her. Quiet and sure, he gazes up at the gray sky and nods. "Think it just might. Not sure how much, though."

.

Her girl looks at him like he'd just handed her the moon and all its surrounding stars and Carol can't help but smile after her as she disappears inside, her head all but in the clouds. "Adding weather forecaster to your talents now?" she teases him, companionably bumps his shoulder.

.

He blushes, bumps her shoulder back with his own. "Ain't got no talents."

.

"Oh, I beg to differ, Mr. Dixon. Making her smile like that? It's definitely a talent."

.

"Stop."

.

...

* * *

...

They wake to find a winter wonderland the next morning, the snow still swirling down in thick white sheets that continue to fall throughout the day and into the night.

.

With the fire crackling in the fireplace and her chilled hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate as she watches Sophia giggle at Ralphie's plight on the television, she feels warm with contentment. With something closer to happiness since, well, _ever_.

.

The pink bunny suit of shame pulls a throaty chuckle from deep within Daryl's chest and unconsciously, he shifts closer to her on the leather sofa. The back of his hand brushing her socked foot before he stills.

.

Quiet as a waiting mouse before she nudges him with her toes, gently distracts him with the movie as she scoots closer until the little points of contact between them spark even more warmth within her. "I'm sure Aunt Clara meant well."

.

"Pfft. _Right_."

.

...

* * *

...

"You have your coat?"

.

Sophia nods.

.

"Your mittens, too?"

.

She sighs. "Yes, Mama."

.

"You'll stay with Daryl the whole time?"

.

"Ain't gonna let her get eat by a bear. If that's what's worryin' you," Daryl gruffly attempts to appease her from where he waits patiently by the door.

.

"Tomorrow's Christmas," Sophia reminds her. "We need a tree."

.

Tucking her baby girl's hair beneath her hood with exasperated fondness, Carol tries to dial back some of her worry. "You don't even believe in Santa anymore."

.

"Maybe not. But I still believe in magic," she tells her with a little crinkle of her nose and a nod in Daryl's direction that somehow goes undetected by the man himself.

.

Least Carol thinks it does, but she's a little off-kilter and she can't be really sure. What with her twelve-year-old playing matchmaker for her. "Sophia."

.

"Ain't gonna let her out of my sight," Daryl promises. "You gotta trust that."

.

"I do. Daryl, I…I trust you. I _do_."

.

"We're coming back, Mama. With the prettiest Christmas tree you've ever seen."

.

"Yeah, well. Better make sure it's on Dale's property."

.

"Mama."

.

"Listen to your girl."

.

"Alright."

.

...

* * *

...

It's no Charlie Brown tree, but it's no beauty pageant winner either. _Still_.

.

It has character and Carol's always thought beauty was in the eye of the beholder anyway. She smiles as she traces a fingertip over one of the shiny glass ornaments they'd found tucked away in a little storage closet, just one of many monuments of a lifetime love story, and she steps back. Surveys the fruits of their hard work.

.

"Looks good," Daryl rumbles.

.

"It _does_."

.

"Looks real pretty."

.

She laughs softly, gazes up at him wonderingly. Because he's always been sweet, unerringly so even if he's never realized it. But he's never been one to offer compliments and it's just a Christmas tree, but she knows him. Maybe not as long as she's known Andrea or Rick. Maybe not even as long as she's known Dale. But she _knows_ him. Has known him since that very first cup of coffee she poured. In many ways, he's a reflection of herself. Just battling every day to find himself in a world that hasn't always treated him kindly. She knows him. He's working through something. Screwing up the courage to say what he really wants to say. "Daryl?" she prompts gently. Quietly because Sophia's sleeping just down the hall and something tells her _this_? This belongs just to them.

.

He holds out his hand, palm up, and something silver glitters beneath the rainbow reflection of the tree's lights.

.

"Daryl?" she breathes when he hooks his crooked pinky finger in the chain and the delicate rendering of a Cherokee rose shimmers before her eyes. "What…"

.

"Saw you lookin' at it." His broad shoulders shrug and his blue eyes shy away from her face. "Know you liked it, and I thought…thought you should have it."

.

"I…Daryl. I don't know what to…"

.

"If you don't want it, if you thinkin' maybe it ain't appropriate…"

.

Mercifully, she cuts off his rambling. "I want it. I want…" _You_ her heart silently screams. "Thank you. It's beautiful. I…put it on?" She shows him her back, holds her hand to her pounding heart, and wills the tears she feels threatening away as she feels him fumble clumsily with the clasp at the nape of her neck. When the necklace finally settles in the well of her throat, she leans back against his solid form. Feels the pounding of his own heart and lets it calm her own. "Thank you," she murmurs.

.

...

* * *

...

He doesn't kiss her and she makes no move to kiss him. Not yet. That's not the way they operate, and she's okay with that. Really _._ She _is._ Besides. She wants to stand on that precipice a little longer, enjoy the view and glory in the slow fall.

.

After all, Sophia isn't the only one that still believes in magic. Not at all.

.

...

* * *

 **Feedback is love.**

 **Thanks so much for reading!**


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